Secret Stash
by Sk8er Chica
Summary: "You used to steal food from the kitchen and hide it all over the house." Newly adopted Baz adjusts to life at the Cody compound.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.**

 **A/N: First _Animal Kingdom_ fic.**

* * *

"Pope, why don't you help your brother get settled in his new room?" Smurf suggests, bouncing 18-month-old Deran a little higher up on her hip. "There should be a TV out in the shed."

"I can help carry it, Smurf," volunteers 16-year-old Baz, Pope's best friend. "I don't really need one, though."

"Of course you do," says Smurf. "Don't be silly. Even Craig has a TV in his room."

Her 7-year-old middle child grins, showing off a couple of recently lost teeth. Deran squirms in her arms; he always gets fussy this time of day.

"I know, baby, you're tired," she coos, kissing his soft blond hair. "Boys, I'll be right back. Your brother needs his nap. Then how about I get started on an early dinner?"

Baz shifts uncomfortably. "You don't have to go to any trouble," he says, even as his hollow middle agrees with the idea.

Smurf's heart aches for the boy in front of her; she can practically count Baz's ribs through his ratty T-shirt. First thing in the morning, they're going shopping for new clothes. As she walks down the hall to Deran's room, Smurf sings:

 _"Poor little Deran_

 _Walkin', walkin', walkin' to Missouri_

 _He can't afford to fly_ …"

The song's been the family lullaby since Pope and his twin sister Julia were born; Smurf always replaces "Robin" with the name of whichever child she's putting to bed at the time.

It doesn't take long for Baz to unpack his few belongings. Craig, already an electronics wizard, starts hooking up the TV.

"Pope, is there still a VCR in the shed?" He isn't really allowed out there.

"No."

"Aw man, that sucks. _I_ have my own VCR," he informs Baz. "What about a Sega Genesis?"

"Fresh out."

"Don't worry, Mom's gonna get you one too," assures Craig, pushing his long brown hair behind his ears so he can see what he's doing better.

His own TV is almost an incomprehensible luxury to Baz, even though he's basically lived part-time at Smurf's for years. The difference now is he never has to go back to his parents; Smurf convinced his deadbeat mom to let her have custody since Baz's lowlife dad (the only parent with a job) went to prison.

"All set." Craig puts the remote on top of the TV.

"Let's go play some basketball in the pool," says Pope, tossing Baz a pair of board shorts to change into.

"Don't be too loud. Deran's asleep," Smurf warns as her bathing-suit clad sons race through the kitchen, where she's chopping fruit. "Baz, honey, did I get the size right on your trunks?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answers, avoiding her gaze.

She smiles kindly. "How many times have I told you it's okay to call me Smurf?" She blinks; with his shirt off, it's even more obvious how malnourished Baz is. "Come here for a minute, sweetheart."

Smurf pats one of the bar stools. She had mixed up a full blender of smoothies at breakfast and there were actually leftovers. She pours him a glass, which Baz starts gulping down like he's afraid she'll take it away from him.

"Dude! Are you coming?" asks Craig, bouncing the basketball against the pool deck.

"I told you to keep it down!" barks Smurf. Muffled crying echoes from deep in the house. Smurf throws up her hands in frustration. "Are you happy now, Craig? You woke up your brother!"

She hurries off to comfort the youngest Cody. Craig rolls his eyes; it seems like his mom loses her mind whenever Deran so much as coughs. Baz wipes off his upper lip with the back of his hand, deposits his empty glass in the sink, and goes outside.

"Where's Julia?" asks Baz, realizing she's not sunning herself in one of the deck chairs.

"Who knows?" Pope shrugs.

His sister's been at home less and less since summer vacation started. When she's around, she's hungover, smells like weed, or both. Pope can't judge her; he does those things himself.

Several rounds of "Walkin' to Missouri" later, Deran is napping peacefully again. Smurf tiptoes out of his room and to the kitchen. She preheats the oven, getting out pans and ingredients for one of her famously elaborate meals. Through the sliding glass door, she sees the boys playing hard in the water. They'll need something to tide them over (especially poor Baz).

Smurf takes out fresh shrimp she bought at the fish market on the pier and plugs in the deep fryer. Better to do this while Deran isn't underfoot. She hums to herself as she coats the shrimp with breadcrumbs. Waiting for them to cook, she makes a big bowl of spinach dip (her way of trying to get the boys to eat vegetables).

"I brought you a snack," Smurf announces when she goes outside.

As usual, the boys ignore the dip and help themselves to handfuls of chips. Smurf doesn't bother telling them not to spoil their dinners; huge appetites seem to be genetic. It's a beautiful day and she decides it would be nice to have Baz's official welcome-to-the-family meal by the pool.

Deran toddles out of his room, rubbing one eye with a pudgy fist.

"Did you have a good nap, sweetheart?" asks Smurf, sitting him down in the living room to play with his blocks and Fisher-Price barn.

Smurf realizes she never gave the older kids anything to drink and takes a pitcher of lemonade out of the refrigerator. She awkwardly shuffles to the sliding-glass door with Deran clinging to her leg. Outside, Craig and Pope are standing about ten paces apart, trying to toss shrimp into each other's open mouths.

"Do you know how much I paid for that? Knock that shit off!" orders Smurf.

"Shit off," parrots Deran.

"You need to set a good example for your baby brother." She points down.

"You're the one who said 'shit'," sasses Pope.

Smurf holds up a warning finger. "Don't you give me an attitude, Andrew."

"Or what?" he challenges.

Before Smurf can reply, Deran screams loud enough to make Craig wince. He's pointing at the tray of shrimp that's way out of his reach.

Baz picks up a piece and gets down to Deran's level. "Here you go, buddy."

"Thank you, sweet boy." Smurf smiles at her new son. "I'll have dinner ready just as soon as I can."

"How soon? I'm _starving_ ," gripes Pope.

"Me too," whines Craig.

"Whenever it's ready." Her tone is colder. "You might not be so hungry if any of that shrimp went in your stomachs instead of all over my pool deck." She removes the tray. "Clean this shit up _now_."

"Shit," Deran giggles as his mother carries him into the house.

Craig and Pope start arguing about whose idea it had been to throw shrimp in the first place. Baz watches from the sidelines, finishing the last couple of pieces he has in front of him. He's somehow even hungrier than he was before. Pope flips Craig off, wishing his brother wasn't half his age so they could settle this like men. When the tension simmers down, the brothers resume horsing around in the pool.

It's almost an hour and a half later when Smurf appears with a stack of plates and silverware, plus Deran's booster seat. Deran is on her heels. Baz swims to the ladder and gets out. He feels more like a guest than part of the family; as such, he should volunteer some help.

"Smurf?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Do you want me to set the table?" asks Baz.

"That's very sweet of you, Baz, but I've got it covered," Smurf replies. "Would you mind keeping an eye on Deran while I grab the food?"

As Baz nods, a deep gurgling noise comes from the pit of his stomach. There's no way Smurf didn't hear it.

"Sounds like you worked up quite an appetite," she remarks.

Baz can't help feeling a little embarrassed. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, honey. You're a growing boy."

Baz holds Deran in his lap so he won't wander toward the pool. One by one, Smurf brings out serving dishes: chicken wings (spicy and not-so-spicy) with blue cheese dressing, fruit salad, cornbread, the rest of the shrimp, and macaroni and cheese (Looney Tunes shapes, Craig's favorite). There are also Hawaiian ham and pineapple skewers, something she knows Baz loves.

"Craig! Pope!" she calls. "Dinner's ready!"

The boys eagerly hop out of the pool and Smurf hands them plates. She gets Deran settled in his booster chair with his toddler-sized fork and spoon. Craig, Pope, and Baz good-naturedly jostle each other for first dibs.

' _Boys will be boys_ ,' Smurf thinks to herself.

Baz finishes everything in front of him and hesitantly asks, "Can I have some more?"

"Of course you can," Smurf says warmly.

After the older kids have practically licked their plates clean, Smurf brings out dessert: brownies and homemade strawberry ice cream. Pope belches.

"You're excused." Smurf frowns. "Baz, did you get enough to eat?"

"Uh-huh, thanks, Smurf," he replies, scraping the last of the ice cream out of his bowl.

"I bet a full stomach feels good. You're gonna sleep like a baby," she predicts.

While Smurf puts Deran to bed, he and Craig pile into Pope's room. The three of them take turns playing _Rambo III_ on his Sega Genesis until Baz is struggling to keep his eyes open. He goes to his own room, wraps himself in his new blanket and crisp sheets, and drifts off.

Baz wakes up in the middle of the night, a sudden worry coming to mind. It's near the end of the month. What if Smurf made such a big dinner because that's all they're getting for a while? The Blackwells depend on food stamps, so Baz has been in that situation more times than he cares to remember. He needs a plan, just in case…


	2. Chapter 2

Saturday morning, Smurf takes inventory of the kitchen, making a grocery list. They're out of spray cheese, which isn't a surprise. Pope recently got Craig into the habit of squirting it in his mouth from the can. Walking by Baz's room, she sees a partial sleeve of saltine crackers on the nightstand. Her boys never touch those unless they're too sick to keep anything else down.

"Baz," she says.

The teenager is sitting cross-legged on the bed, watching a surf competition on one of the local channels. "Yeah, Smurf?"

"Is your stomach feeling okay?" Smurf asks, brushing his bangs off his forehead to check for a fever. "That chili wasn't too spicy, was it?" Off his puzzled look, she explains, "I saw the crackers."

"I'm fine," he answers honestly.

"Good." She smiles. "Waffles are on the table. Come on before they get cold."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sunday is cleaning day. Smurf makes her rounds to the boys' rooms, dusting, picking up laundry, and changing the sheets. She doesn't think anything of the bag of corn chips she finds between Baz's bed and the nightstand. For Pope and Craig, midnight snacks during TV or video game marathons are par for the course.

As time passes, Smurf and the rest of the Cody clan begin to discover things that are a little harder to explain. A box of snack cakes behind Baz's usual spot on the couch. Neatly bagged peanut butter sandwiches on top of the kitchen cabinets. A package of Dunkaroos wrapped in a washcloth in the bathroom the boys share. Leftover pizza slices under the grill lid...

The hidden food disappears after a day or two, but no one ever actually sees Baz eat it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

One day, Smurf puts her hand in the dryer and touches something sticky. She half-dreads what it could be and is relieved that it's just a banana. There's something else that doesn't belong: a squashed mango. Smurf heads back inside, her sandals slapping loudly against the pool deck.

"Andrew Cody!"

"What?" Pope's tone is annoyed.

"You're supposed to be _watching him_!" Smurf snarls.

"What are you _talking_ about?" asks Pope. "Deran's right here."

The toddler is driving a toy truck across the couch, enthralled by an action movie Smurf is sure he and Craig are both too young to be watching. Well, she can deal with that later.

"Then can one of you tell me how a banana and a mango got in the dryer?" asks Smurf, holding up the offending produce.

"It wasn't me," shrugs Craig.

"I sure as fuck didn't." Pope replies.

"Language!" Smurf warns.

Baz had forgotten sneaking to the laundry area while everyone else was asleep. He can feel the tips of his ears turning red. Smurf starts to put two and two together. She asks Baz to bring a hamper outside, which will give them a chance to talk privately. She moves the fruit-stained clothes from the dryer back to the washer, lips pursed in annoyance at having to repeat the load.

"I'm really sorry, Smurf," Baz mumbles, his eyes downcast. "I dunno why I even did it."

"I think I do." Smurf's voice has turned gentle. "My mom didn't take very good care of me either, so I stole from other kids' lunchboxes and then I started shoplifting. It was the only way I could survive."

Baz didn't know that; Smurf kept a tight lid on her past.

"But I promise you something, Barry." Her use of his birth name gets his attention. "I will always take care of you the same way I take care of my other boys. This is your house now too. You don't have to sneak around. If your belly starts to growl, you can take anything you want from the kitchen. Day or night, no questions asked. Okay, baby?"

"Okay, Smurf." She hates that he doesn't sound convinced she's telling the truth.

She pecks him on the cheek. "I love you, son. Are you hungry right now?"

"Just a little."

Smurf throws away the banana and the mango. "Then let's get you a fresh snack. How's a warm chocolate chip cookie sound?"

There are Oreos in the snack cabinet, but Smurf knows it's important that Baz get some motherly affection. She hums to herself as she cracks eggs into a bowl and measures out sugar.

"Mom! I can't hear the TV!" Pope shouts when she fires up the electric mixer.

"That's what the rewind button is for!" she calls over the noisy appliance.

Smurf uses a wooden spoon to stir in the chocolate chips. Before filling the cookie sheets, she doles out a spoonful each to Pope, Baz, and Craig. As far as she's concerned, a little raw dough never hurt anybody. Explosions from the TV rock the air as Smurf continues her baking. When the cookies are ready, she makes it a point to offer the plate to Baz first, smiling to herself as he takes a second cookie without asking for her permission.


End file.
